Today I realized:

I thought more about the mysterious culprit (pictured above) I killed this evening than the code I worked this morning. I wrapped him in a towel, paused, and quietly whispered I'm sorry before I squished him. (The caterpillar). Just a lonely caterpillar trying to make it in this big world.

I'm sorry Mr. Caterpillar but you can't go messing with a girls tomatoes.


I spent over twenty agonizing minutes trying on backpacks; unzipping and re adjusting, examining pocket space and analyzing if it matched my personality (yes, I do that).
Apparently I have higher standards for my backpacks than I do my men.


If you hit the window frame with the posterior side of your fist it makes the rattling stop.

I'm slipping back into that lull again.





p.s. I went with the black one because it had a special pocket for my journal.

Have I ever mentioned how much it pains me to set my alarm at a time that ends in a zero or a five? Well it does. There are three alarms that are constantly changing on my phone and they all typically end in a three or an eight.

He played hookie from work on one condition; vegging on the couch- together.

So that's exactly what we've been doing.



In other news, I've been killing myself via carbohydrates (the bad ones) and cheese.
God help me.

People can't understand why a man runs. They don't see any sport in it. Argue it lacks the sight and thrill of body contact. Yet, the conflict is there, more raw and challenging than any man versus man competition. For in running it is man against himself, the cruelest of opponents. The other runners are not the real enemies. His adversary lies within him, in his ability, with brain and heart to master himself and his emotions.

Glenn Cunningham - American runner, Olympic Games medalist

I ran out the hostility of the last three days.